


Point of Contact

by tsurai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: (kind of), Established Relationship, In the Fade, Inquisitor!Jowan, Jowan is still a blood mage, M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, and proud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the events of Inquisition, Jowan wakes up in a strange part of the Fade. But instead of seeing Lust, his bound demon, he finds a great white wolf...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of Contact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SOMNlARl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/gifts).



> For the tumblr prompts [“Journey”](http://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/post/123813936721/the-kink-prompt) and [“I’m Sorry kiss”](http://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/post/123812736141/kiss-meme).

“This is the song I only sing when you’re sleeping.” – _I Wrote This For You_

Jowan woke to the smell of flowers and grass on a sweet summer breeze. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know he was in the Fade – even all the work he’d put into Skyhold’s gardens couldn’t produce a feeling this genuine, and he’d gone to bed in his own room.

“Lust!” he called, sitting up. The desire demon was usually responsible for strangeness in the Fade, given how much she liked to mess with him. Apparently demons could get bored of being bound to one person over the course of a decade, especially when that person had yet to give in to possession. “Lu-” he started again, but stopped at the sight of his surroundings.

Jowan sat in a veritable ocean of wildflowers; interspersed with grass, they stretched from horizon to horizon, with only the distant silhouette of the Black City breaking the clear blue sky. Countless butterflies flit between clusters of petals, and he could hear the occasional rustle of some small animal moving through the brush. This was not the typical construct of Lust’s demesne – considering she had yet to appear and drape herself over him, the mage was starting to think he was in some other part of the Fade entirely.

It was…pleasant, he supposed, to be here. Although he could now step outdoors whenever he wished, barring council meetings, the part of him that’d grown up in Kinloch Hold still relished feeling the breeze through his hair. _It would be no hardship to spend the night here_ , he mused, plucking a small blue flower from its stem. It was bothersome that he couldn’t name its species, considering his minor background in herb lore. In fact, very few of the flowers he could see looked familiar.  

Then the breeze stopped, the butterflies disappeared, and Jowan felt a presence at his back.

He couldn’t help himself – he turned, face-to-face with a wolf the likes of which he’d never seen. It stood two feet above his head at the shoulders with a pure white coat and, most notably, sported numerous blood-red eyes that all stared straight at him. He let out a tenuous breath.

“Fen’harel,” he whispered, because who else could it be, in such a form? Especially after his encounter with the woman known as Flemeth and the revelation of her identity as one of the Elven gods.

The wolf stepped toward him, almost tentative. Too familiar. Jowan swallowed, nearly sobbed, “Solas.”

That was the clincher. The white wolf flinched, then rippled, fur coat melting away into a too familiar bald elf. Solas, in all his lovely, homespun glory. “You knew?”

“I figured it out after…after. I’m not an idiot, you know,” Jowan bit out, but the words were softened by the small smile he couldn’t prevent crossing his face.

“Of course you’re not, _lethal’lin_ ,” said the elf, stepping closer.

“ _Lethal’lin_ , huh? What happened to _vhen’an_?” Jowan groused, only half joking.  

Solas’ eyes filled with sorrow. “ _Ir abelas_ , but I-” He didn’t get to finish the sentence, swept up in a tight embrace when Jowan could no longer keep himself in check.

“I’ve missed you so much, you daft elf,” he muttered, pressing his cheek against the smooth skin of the shorter man’s head as he stood stiff with shock. It only took a moment for Solas to respond, bringing his arms up to hug Jowan back. Despite this, it took another moment for the elf to fully relax, leaning against him for a long moment. Solas smelled of like lyrium as all mages were wont, along with something darker, and a muskiness he’d always associated with dogs but now knew was the scent of wolf. Jowan didn’t ever want to let go, but he had to eventually and well they both knew it.

Solas finally drew away, bringing his hand up to touch the outline of Jowan’s jaw. “You’ve changed,” he murmured.

Jowan smiled. “I thought you hated the beard. It was time I got rid of it anyway, it _has_ been a year…” The words trailed off, and he caught Solas’ hand before the man could take it back, cradling it against his cheek for a moment. His heart swelled when his former lover didn’t immediately snatch it back, as he had after any accidental touch those first days after everything had gone wrong between them. “But this isn’t what you brought me here to talk about.”

Solas looked away then and drew back his hand. Jowan tried not to let the pang of loss show on his face and suspected he was rather unsuccessful. “No, I wanted…” he stopped, frustration creating a noticeable dimple in his brow. “I wanted to tell you the truth, now that I’ve gathered my courage. I didn’t anticipate you already knowing some of it.”

He looked away, heart stuttering in disappointment. Of _course_ Solas had expected ignorance. The god had several millennia on him and Jowan should be grateful he no longer considered humans a scourge upon Thedas, such as they once seemed to his people—

“Jowan.” Solas’ voice was firm, startling him as the elf so rarely referred to him by name. “I do not know where your thoughts lead you, but they are untrue. I was merely surprised. After the time I took to push myself to face you again, knowing that I ran away once—” he broke off, looking across the meadow toward the Black City. “But there are many things you’ve still yet to learn. About me. And my connection with the Elder One.”

Jowan blinked. “Your connection with the Elder—” and then he got it. The confused hurt he’d been feeling erupted in his chest, abruptly turning into rage. “ _You_ \- you _gave_ Corypheus the orb,” he hissed. The blood in his body was stirring, pushing against the scars on his wrists to lash out at the object of his ire. He resisted in that moment only with the knowledge that using blood magic in the Fade would call Lust to him in an instant, despite whatever method barred her from this domain.

Unable to look at Solas anymore, Jowan walked away, paying little heed to the wildflowers left trampled in his wake. A thousand thoughts fluttered through his mind: he felt betrayed, though Solas had given away the orb before they’d ever met. It was _his_ fault Jowan was thrown through the Fade, right into to the laps of the very people who had the least reason to listen to a maleficar such as himself. And all those poor people, dead from the demons Corypheus unleashed upon the world when Jowan couldn’t bind them fast enough.

“ _Lethal’lin_ ,” Solas called out, but stopped when Jowan whirled around.

“Don’t _call_ me that!” he shouted, stomach roiling with anger and nausea. “Not now. Not until you tell me why you did it.”

“Restoration,” the god replied instantly, though even from this distance Jowan could see troubled feelings brewing behind his eyes. And remorse. It was enough to give him pause.

“Restoration of what?”

Solas looked at him, face softening as he read Jowan’s willingness to listen. “Will you let me show you?”

Wondering if he was going to regret this, he agreed.

In a blink, the meadow surrounding them gave way to a forest—no, not a forest, but a city built of glass that twined through trees ten times larger than Jowan had ever seen before. He craned his head, squinting past the far-off canopies to make out floating crystal spires that practically formed cities on their own. And while the city glittered, breathtaking, it was also utterly deserted, not a single spirit or demon to be seen.

“Solas, what—”

“Before you is Arlathan, the old capital of Elvenhan,” the other said. Jowan swallowed, staring out for a few moments before he turned back to Solas.

“This is what you want to bring back?”

“This and more. I went to sleep, and when I woke up, what remained of my people were less shadows, a reflection of a shadow on a dirty mirror.” Solas steadfastly met his eyes. “The Dalish and other elves continue to be persecuted by the humans, despite numerous wars and pacts made by either side from Andraste’s era on. I would have us regain our former glory, and perhaps the immortality that once was lost to us.”

Jowan gazed out at Arlathan again, the city something bright and beautiful but devastatingly lonely for its emptiness. His anger had cut back to a simmer, but still his questions were unanswered. “How?”

“It is long story,” the elf said, matter-of-fact rather than discouraging. It wrung a small chuckle out of the human.

“Well, time has no meaning here, so I think we’ll be alright,” he replied, casting about for somewhere to sit, if this story was truly as lengthy as he expected it to be. He found a bench, an amalgamation of crystal and living wood that reflected their surroundings, and made his way to it. Solas followed without prompting, settling beside him when Jowan finally got comfortable.

After another moment, he began. “It started when the Great Hunter Andruil entered the Void to hunt the Forgotten Ones...”

-

Time had little meaning in the Beyond, but Solas felt the minutes stretch as he awaited Jowan’s response to his tale. The man had listened attentively, asking questions when needed, but otherwise remained silent. It made him feel unaccountably…anxious. The echo of Arlathan did not hold as much sway over his heart as usual, all his attention fixed on the mage beside him.

Jowan looked like a completely different person clean-shaven, but Solas supposed that was the point – the blood mage no longer hid who and what he was from the world. He’d even taken to leaving his arms bare when wandering the magically-protected warmth of Skyhold those last months, the set of scars that marked him a maleficar on brazen display. That bravery, and his insatiable curiosity, had drawn Solas in almost immediately.

He clenched one hand, palm still tingling where Jowan cupped it to his face early ago. How long had it been since he’d been touched so tenderly? And the look of naked longing on the man’s face…he’d know that Jowan still loved him after their separation – no, after Solas fled from his burgeoning feelings, breaking the man’s heart in the process.

Solas shut his eyes. Judging from his long silence, it was unlikely any lingering affection had survived their conversation.

“Thank you for telling me.” His eyes flew open. Jowan met his gaze steadily and spoke again. “I know about make mistakes and seeking to atone. And…” the blood mage reached out for the first time since they sat down, clasping his hand around Solas’ smaller one, no longer clenched in his lap. “It’s…going to take me a long time to forgive you for Corypheus, but I understand. The other gods…they’re your family after all.” Jowan’s smile was small, but sincere.

Solas’ throat felt tight. “ _Vhen’an_ ,” he murmured without thinking, but couldn’t bear to take it back with the man’s grey eyes so focused on him. His heart began to beat more quickly – this, understanding and the promise of eventual forgiveness, was more than he could have ever hoped for from the man. Jowan brought a hand up, brushing across his face with a drag of calloused skin before cupping gently against the back of his head.

“Solas, please. Can I…?”

For all the years of living he’d experienced, in and out of the Beyond, Solas still found himself fumbling when it came to this. He could stop it now, before things went too far again – but Jowan knew the truth and still…still loved him. Fen’harel was a liar and a trickster, but he was never in the habit of lying to himself. He swallowed, eyes fluttering shut. “Yes.”

The mage pressed lips against his, warm and prickly with the slight shadow of stubble, but they sent lightning through his veins. Solas reached up, grasping at the man’s hair to pull him even closer. Jowan pulled away after a moment, throwing one leg over the bench so he could slide forward pressing up against Solas’ leg.

“Maker, I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured, peppering his face and lips with kisses. Solas’ skin began to heat under the focus of his attentions, so he yanked the human down into another kiss. This one was harder, more passionate. He poured the longing, the loneliness, and an ardent apology into it all at once, willing Jowan to feel as he did.

_Ir abelas, ma vhen’an_. But he didn’t speak – instead a startled moan escaped his throat when Jowan bit at his lip, sucking and releasing before the mage began to work his way down the corner of his jaw to Solas’ neck. Then gasped when he bit down on a tendon, worrying at the skin with his teeth as Solas’ flew to his shoulder blades and clenched there. “Aren’t I meant to be the wolf between the two of us?” the god snapped, instantly regretting bringing up the topic again so soon. He was grateful when Jowan just laughed, kissing the irritated skin and sitting up to look at him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to taste you again, even though this isn’t real…”

“It’s as real as anything in the Fade.”  
“I know that! But when I wake, you won’t be dreaming beside me this time.” The human’s voice was resigned, and his heart clenched in his chest at the sadness radiating through Jowan, only offset by the melancholy abandonment of Arlathan around them.

“Come,” Solas said, tugging at the warp and weft of the Beyond until it reformed around them. Instead of a bench they sat upon a bed covered in a down-stuffed quilt, surrounded by stone walls instead of crystal spires. “Do not think of the morning. Focus on me for now,” he ordered.

Jowan cast a look over their surroundings, eyebrows rising. “Solas –”

Solas got to his knees beside the bed, lifting his jawbone necklace and setting it safely aside. One he done, he turned to place a hand on Jowan’s knee. The fabric felt soft and warm beneath his palm, belying the tightly strung muscle under it. Touching him like this was less lightning and more fire, building to steady blaze in the pit of Solas’ belly. As long as Jowan gave his consent, Solas was determined to hold steady in the face of all he had been wanting these long lonely months.

“Yes, love. I..yes,” Jowan stuttered. “Oh!” The words sent Solas leaning forward, pushing his hand against the vee of Jowan’s legs. He watched with satisfaction as the man twitched, already hardening as Solas yanked at the laces of his trousers and pulled them down and over his hips along with his smalls.

He pressed his face to the curls at the base of Jowan’s erection, breathing the scent of sweat and musk of human, _his_ human, who even now curled a hand against the back of his neck rubbed a thumb along Solas’ jaw.

Solas finally took the cock in his mouth, pleased when Jowan responded with a low moan as he fell back on his elbows to look at him. The elf licked, pressing down further until he could feel his jaw protest as the man’s girth pushed it apart; the sensation of his lips rubbing against soft skin as he drew up and down sending his eyes fluttering shut. He lost himself that way for a while, sucking and licking as his lover’s hand sought purchase against the smooth plane of his skull, eventually settling for pulling at his ears, rubbing and pinching them such that the action sent heat blazing to Solas’ own neglected erection.

“Oh Maker, Solas, please, I want-” Jowan moaned, breath hitching as it did when he was close to orgasm. Solas pulled away reluctantly, meeting the human’s lust-blown eyes.

“Tell me,” he prodded, kissing Jowan’s stomach.

“I want you to fuck me,” the man groaned, hauling Solas up to kiss him full on the mouth. Solas let himself melt into it, pressed against Jowan’s chest.

“That can be arrange, _ma lath_ , but you need to remove your clothing,” he spoke, pulling away Jowan scrambled to do as he wished while Solas removed his own clothing, letting them fall to the floor where they would. Soon Solas was naked, sitting between the knees of his love sprawled out on the bed. It took a mere thought – not even a spell – to call oil to his hand, watching Jowan shiver as he let it drip over his thighs. Preparing him was easy, as Solas pressed at the bonds of their reality to make Jowan release the tension in his muscles. Even so, the man was still tight around his fingers by the time the elf worked up to three, too close to the edge to fully release relax. Finally, Solas took his own neglected cock in hand. “Are you ready?”

Jowan was panting by this point, “Yes! Please.”

Solas carefully pressed in, sinking by slow inches into the delicious heat of the younger man. He was grateful his lover was already so close to the edge, for he had the feeling he wouldn’t last long. They both shuddered when he bottomed out, pausing to draw back, before he thrust in again.

“Fuck!” Jowan’s back arched off the bed, baring his lovely throat just out of Solas’ reach. He growled, thrusting forward again as he tried to concentrate on breathing and finding just the right spot… “There, shit. Oh Maker, right there!” his lover cried, and Solas pulled at Jowan’s leg, slinging one thick shin over his shoulder to maintain the angle. Jowan’s cock rubbed against his belly, leaking fluid, but Solas ignored it – he had more than enough skill to force the man to come on his cock alone. He manipulated Jowan’s other leg until both were over his shoulders, then leaned forward until he had the man practically bent in half. Each thrust turned into a rise and fall that jolted through Solas’ thighs and stomach every time skin met skin. The fire in him built to an inferno.

Jowan stopped moaning, his breath saved for the little hitches and whimpers that signaled his arrival at the edge. Solas sped his thrusts. “Come for me now, _vhen’an_.”

The mage was quick to obey, orgasming with a force that sent streaks of white fluid up to his neck, gasping Solas’ name with every wave.

Watching Jowan’s face was enough. As the man’s ass tightened around him, Solas too let go, coming with an unintelligible cry. He slumped, letting Jowan’s legs slide off his shoulders as he slipped out. Jowan pulled him down, cradling Solas against his chest.

He went easily, pillowing his face against Jowan’s shoulder. His mind was calm, though there was still some small part of him that was grateful to the point of tears. _At least I get to have this_.

Jowan turned his face to his, bringing them nose-to-nose. “I want to help you,” he murmured. “Will you come back?”

In the physical world, dawn was long. At any moment now one or both of them would wake, but until then the Beyond sung around them, centering the turmoil in Solas’ heart.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhen’an_ ,” Solas replied, nudging himself up just enough to kiss him gently.

Jowan smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Come play with/prompt me on [tumblr](tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com)!


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